Welcome to Sub/Urban, a recurring feature of Strollerderby in which I'll wax on/wax off about the adventures of two suburban parents who are trying to imbue a love of the big city into our kids. My wife and I live in Redmond, Washington. It only takes a short skip over Lake Washington for us to land in Seattle, where Kim and I spend most of our child-free moments. Let's face it: the suburbs are a fine (cough) place to live. But when it comes to entertainment, the 'burbs don't hold a candle to the Emerald City.
But I didn't go into Seattle last night with my wife. I went with my nine-year-old daughter Neve. Our destination: Key Arena, for High School Musical - The Concert.
"Zero," you may ask, "what the FUCK is High School Musical?!" Oh, grasshopper. Obviously, you don't have a tween or teen in your household. HSM is a DCOM (or "Disney Channel Original Movie", for those who don't speak Disney-ese) about a jock and a science nerd who throw their school's caste system into disarray when they try out for the musical. I may lose all my indie cred for admitting this, but...I liked the film. Cheesy in parts, to be sure (it's Disney - whaddya want, Goodfellas?), but well done nevertheless.
That doesn't mean I wanted to sit in a stadium filled to the rafters with screaming teen hormones. And watch it performed live. For over. Two. HOURS.
It also didn't mean I wanted to wade through Seattle rush hour traffic to make the 7pm show. But Neve's a fanatic for this fucking movie. Plus, it counted toward her Christmas. So what's a dad to do? Hop in the minivan and suck it up, that's what.
My main challenge was braving Interstate 520, which during rush backs up from Seattle to Timbuktu. Kim gave me the Super-Secret Decoder Ring instructions for getting on the highway at the last possible moment, right before the Evergreen Point Floating Bridge that spans the water into Seattle. The directions involved scooting onto the HOV lane using an entrance buried inside a roundabout hidden by shrubbery. (BRING US A SHRUBBERY!) If you don't know it's there, you end up waiting in line with all the other suckers. Thanks to Kim's sub/urban judo skills, though, Neve and I hit the Key with plenty of time to spare.
And the show itself? Survivable. Although there were a few times I thought of pulling out my Pocket PC and texting my wife with the message "I'm in hell". Glancing around, I could see a number of sullen dads who were similarly wishing that a ninja would sneak up behind them and end it all with one well-placed whack to the back of the neck. The worst part was the prices. $20 for a program? $35 for a t-shirt?! It was like being anally raped. And I'm bisexual - I usually enjoy that sort of thing!
But the guy who got shafted the worst was the dad who showed up with his adorable under-2-year-old - without a second ticket. The box office had told him that under-2 got in free. But the Disney Capitalist Machine was having none of that shit; they forced the poor bastard to march over to the ticket window and buy a second admission.
I admire that dude for not going ballistic. If they had pulled that on me after my Suburban Commute from Hell, the world would be missing a few Disney employees this morning.
